


A Sack of Potatoes

by yankeetooter



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Potatoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:43:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yankeetooter/pseuds/yankeetooter
Summary: A sack of potatoes distracts Valery from his plans briefly, then strengthens his determination.
Relationships: Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	A Sack of Potatoes

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a detail pointed out by a Valoris comrade on Tumblr.

Valery was never sure later why he tarried at the store. He'd bought the rope already. The tapes were finished and tonight was the night. He'd only gone to the store to get some chicken for Sasha; otherwise the deed might have already been done.

But something made him stop at the produce counter. A little old lady in a shawl saw him and approached, a toothless grin on her face. "How's my Valery today? You're looking much too thin lately! It's that bad place they sent you too, isn't it? They should never have sent you there!"

Valery nodded and smiled a bit under the babushka's endless prattling. 

"Well, guess what we have today? Your favorite! And a whole sack! Here, take them!"

Potatoes! Usually one could maybe get one or two at a time! Valery happily took the sack and started back home, thinking of all the dishes he could make. Maybe some potato soup! And fried potatoes with eggs for breakfast! And baked potatoes! He'd never had them until he'd been in Vienna, where with typical decadence they'd prepared them with butter, sour cream and cheese. Valery laughed to remember the night before the trial at Chernobyl, when he'd tried to replicate the dish for Boris, who made faces the whole time at the disaster.

It hit him like a brick. Boris! He'd not seen him in a year, since that fateful day. Depression came crashing back down, the rope and his plans suddenly remembered. There would be no potato soup tonight, or any other night for that matter. No half raw baked potatoes offered to Boris on another night, while they both laughed over Valery's deplorable cooking skills.

Valery would have dumped the potatoes somewhere, but he couldn't bear the thought of them going to waste. No, when his neighbor came to rescue Sasha, as he hoped she would, she could help herself. She would appreciate having the extra food for her husband and son.

Valery arrived back at his apartment and deposited the potatoes in a ceramic bowl. He divided up the chicken into four bowls for Sasha, admonishing her not to wolf it all down at once. While he worked, he thought one last time of Boris, lamenting all he had lost. He'd always hoped to feel Boris' touch one last time, but he'd been pulled out of the trial immediately after his testimony and there had been no chance. Why, oh why hadn't he embraced Boris out in the courtyard? Given him one last smile? But no, he'd never feel those strong arms around him again, never see that laughing face again. They had run out of time. 

Having finished, he climbed up and hung the rope. All was now ready. He was just going to climb up onto the chair when there was an insistent knock at the door. What? Who could that be? He thought about just going ahead, but whoever it was at the door might burst in and stop him, and then they would put him under even closer surveillance and he wouldn't get the chance again.

He slowly moved to the door, expecting the worst. His jaw dropped in shock when he opened the door and Boris was standing there. He must be dreaming!

Boris moved quickly into the room, arms flung wide to grab Valery when he stopped dead, his head swiveling around to confirm what his peripheral vision had already picked up on. Through the kitchen doorway, a chair. A chair in the middle of the floor, right below a noose. 

Boris turned back to Valery, horror struck. "What? Valery, what is that?". Of course he knew. How could he not? But he needed some other explanation from Valery, even though he knew there couldn't be one.

Valery stuttered, trying to explain himself to Boris. He had lost all hope of seeing his friends. (He dared not express all he felt for Boris, even now.). He was sick, he'd lost his position and gained his colleagues' scorn.

Boris listened, saying nothing but piercing Valery with those steel blue eyes. 

If Valery could have looked up, if he could have met that gaze, he would have seen the grief and sorrow on Boris' face, the look of stricken love he was giving Valery. But Valery couldn't bear to look Boris in the face. He was afraid to see the rage, the disgust, that would surely be there. He trembled, tears streaming down his face. He waited for Boris to explode and start throwing things.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Boris raise his arm. Would he strike him? Was he that angry with him? Valery had witnessed Boris' anger many times, but not once had he feared for his safety. (Well, maybe on the helicopter.). But now he cowered, waiting for the blow.

The next moment he was grabbed up in a fierce embrace, followed by Boris' mouth crashing into his in an intense kiss. Valery couldn't catch his breath, reeling from the unexpected assault on his lips. He felt himself begin to swoon as Boris kissed him harder than he'd ever been kissed in his life. Finally, Boris pulled back slightly and Valery gasped to catch his breath.

Boris' eyes bored into his. "Don't you ever even think of doing...doing that again!" Boris' arm flailed in the direction of the kitchen. "Do you have any idea what that would have done to me? What if I'd got here thirty minutes later? Ten minutes even? Are you trying to kill me sooner than my own body will betray me?"

Valery could only sob helplessly in apology. Of course he hadn't considered Boris' reaction. But he hadn't even known if Boris was still alive. It had been a year since the trial, and Boris' doctor had given him a year at most to live. 

"Boris, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!". 

Then Boris' arms were around him again, and his mouth was doing terrible, wonderful things to Valery's neck and throat. He ran his lips and teeth up Valery's throat, nipping and biting at will. 

Valery groaned and leaned into Boris. This was not Boris just cupping his face, laughing at a shared smile! He'd had no idea! A moment later he realized Boris was dragging him across the room, all the while keeping up his ravaging of Valery's mouth and throat.

"Where, where are we going?" Valery managed, then stopped talking when he realized Boris was dragging him to the bedroom. 

"I'm going to make sure any more such ridiculous thoughts are driven out of you for good!". Boris growled in his ear...

_____________

Hours later...Valery and Boris are in the kitchen. The chair is back in its rightful place, the rope pulled down and disposed of. Our Valery is rather disheveled, even for him, his shirt untucked and his tie beyond any fixing. He stands next to Boris, their hips brushing, while Boris instructs him in how to properly bake a potato.


End file.
